Monday, November 06, 2006

It has come to Pretty Lady's shocked attention that her very own Brat, that innocent-seeming little libertine, has been carrying on a Clandestine Flirtation, right under Pretty Lady's nose.

Sunday evening, you see, another Building Meeting was called, due to the recent antics of Phil the Neanderthal. Pretty Lady volunteered her services as hostess; her apartment was declared 'cozy' by the assembled company, which always warms the cockles of her compulsive nesting instinct.

Each of the building tenants have had a different story entirely, from Phil and his Soul Twin, the Aggressive Attorney; none of these stories bears a passing resemblance to the physical facts of the situation. For example, Pretty Lady had a chat with the Aggressive Attorney on Friday afternoon, wherein the A.A. assured her up, down and sideways that the lock on the front door was the sort that can be adjusted to remain unlocked during the day. Which is Not So. Many other unsupported statements of this nature were flung in Pretty Lady's direction, "we're taking care of it" being the major mendacious fantasy.

So it was decided that we all give Phil & Co. one more week to make good on their statements, during which time we make use of the Log in the Doorjamb; then we issue a formal statement of Intent to Fix It Ourselves, and Deduct the Expense. Pretty Lady has NOT volunteered to be the bearer of this ultimatum, though she will print it up.

However. Toward the end of this cozy little session, the girl from Two Floors Down caught sight of the Brat, peering down from the ceiling. "That looks just like the cat that looks in our window," she said.

The full story came out; how the cat belonging to the girl from Two Floors Down waits by the fire escape window as the sun goes down. How she waits for hours on end. How, eventually, on some rare evenings, a Masked Stranger appears, and regards her. How the imprisoned princess, coy and abashed, retreats from the window, then looks back, fascinated. How this has been going on for quite some time.

Keep in touch, darlings!

About Me

Darlings, where to start? Sometimes I feel as though I have lived a thousand lives in this one, dewy and unlined though my complexion may be. To Tell All may be to intimidate; thus I maintain, at most times, a discreet reserve. But here I share my musings, perhaps revealing the secret to my exquisite poise and charm.